What He Wants
by Amanda Kitswell
Summary: After Ruben died, Danny's personal life spun out of control. He needs to make up his mind before he loses it completely. My entry for the FCG Challenge. Danny/Flack friendship. Danny/Rikki... don't shoot me.


**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI: New York, nor do I own any of the following songs:**

**_Break Anotha_ by Blake Lewis**

**_Hold On_ by KT Tunstall**

**_You Look Good In My Shirt_ by Keith Urban**

**_What I Want_ by Daughtry (feat. Slash)**

**This story is my entry for the Fiction Critique Group Challenge at TalkCSI. The challenge elements were:**

**1. 4000 word limit**

**2. Rating PG-13 or lower**

**3. Incorporate your favorite song even if the character(s) wouldn't listen to it**

**4. The main character must be your favorite male character (any, spouse, friend, show character, child, ect.). You may involve other character(s) and you must incorporate an element of friendship in it**

**5. Include the partial-line, "It is/was stranger than fiction," at some point in the piece.**

**Notes: This was a very difficult piece for me to write, because I really wanted to use my favorite character, Danny. Characterization and such things could be off, but I think I got the best help ever from zelda49. She's my hero. Reviews will actually be much appreciated in this story. I don't know how well I did on a lot of things, so tell me what you think. Y'all know I don't ask for reviews, so you gotta know this is important to me!  
**

* * *

Stepping out of the shower, Danny pulled his towel from its rack and began to dry himself off. Even after the thirty minute shower in scalding hot water, his body was screaming for the desperately needed sleep that it had been craving for the past thirty-seven hours. It seemed that no matter what he did - sheep counting, warm milk, Benadryl - he failed to fall asleep. After three hours of trying, he finally gave up and decided to just fake it through his shift. The raised eyebrows from Flack and Stella every time he yawned didn't go unnoticed, nor did the worry in Lindsay's stares. But he brushed off every question of concern and went back to work, forcing himself to stay focused.

Wrapping the towel around his waist, he walked over to the mirror and looked at his reflection. He realized then why he had gotten odd looks from everyone near the end of shift: he looked like he'd been hit by a subway. He sighed as he reached for his razor, but decided against shaving after he considered the physical state he was in. A sliced carotid was not how he pictured his life ending.

Exiting into the hallway, the cool night air of spring in New York blew through an open window, sending goose bumps trailing along the exposed skin of Danny's body. As he turned for the bedroom, knocking sounded from his apartment's door. Sighing, he turned in the direction of the door. "Just a sec," he called out, and the knocking stopped. Moving to the bedroom quickly, he pulled a pair of boxers from the top drawer of his dresser and pulled them on, then slid his glasses on. He tossed the towel in the hamper by the door as he exited the room.

He approached the door to his apartment and checked the peephole before opening it. Stifling a yawn, he disengaged the chain lock and pulled the door open to reveal Don Flack in all his terrible-tie glory. "Hey, Flack. What's up?"

"Funny. I was gonna ask you the same question." Danny stepped to the side as a silent invitation, and it was accepted graciously by the lanky detective. "So what's up with you? Forget to sleep again?"

"Nah. My body just forgot that sleep is necessary for it to function." He yawned through the last word, his point being made crystal clear. He looked at his friend, and the amused expression on his face made him glare in response. "I'd like to see you after thirty-seven hours without sleep."

A smirk formed on Flack's face, something Danny never expected to be followed by a serious comment. "Well, you look worse than I did after getting blown up." _Bingo_, he thought, letting a well-placed smirk of his own form. "Seriously, Dano. What's going on?"

Danny rolled his eyes inconspicuously at the nickname. "How can I take you seriously when you're calling me 'Dano'?" When Flack gave him an 'I am not amused' look, he immediately realized the mood had changed dramatically. Shifting gears in his mind abruptly, he tried to think of what he should say. Deciding on the explanation that wouldn't make him look like a complete ass, he began. "I've been pretty screwed up since Ruben died. I've tried to be there for Rikki, but it's hard to be there for someone when you can't be there for yourself. It's all been pretty much downhill since Louie's attack." He hung his head, not out of shame, but to hide the look that spread on his face. He couldn't believe that he had lost that much control over what he said, and now he had to fight the blood creeping into his cheeks.

A sudden chill sent the blood rushing through his body once more, and he realized then that he was only in boxers. Mentally kicking himself, he looked up at Flack. "You mind if I put some clothes on before I start the waterworks?" he asked mockingly, trying to divert his friend's attention from the statement he had just made. After receiving a nod, he simply walked away and into his bedroom to change - or get dressed, for that matter.

Once he had put on a T-shirt and a pair of jeans, he headed out of the bedroom and found Flack sitting on a couch in his living room. Finding a seat of his own opposite the already sitting man, he leaned back and attempted to rediscover the thoughts of what he was going to say earlier. "You ready to talk?"

"Yeah," he said thoughtlessly, his mind still reeling from the slip of the tongue earlier. It seemed as if the only option he had was to let his mouth say whatever his mind thought up… again. "I was, ah, comin' back from shift the other night, and I heard somethin' comin' from Rikki's apartment. I went over, just to check if she was okay." He frowned at the memory of Rikki opening her door, her eyes red and puffy, her cheeks soaked with tears. It didn't take him more than a second to wrap her into his arms, trying desperately to relieve her pain despite the fact that his own was eating him alive.

"What happened with her?" Flack asked calmly, as if he were questioning a witness.

"Quit interrogating me, man. I'm gettin' to it." He sighed, suddenly wishing he didn't have to remember what had happened that night. He didn't know whether it was a good thing or not. "It was obvious she had been cryin', and I didn't want her to be alone. I had her come to my apartment, and we ended up talkin' for a good three hours before…" He took a calming breath, and glared at Flack when it looked as if he were going to speak. Telling one of his friends and coworkers about his sexual escapades, especially Don Flack, shouldn't have been this difficult. But usually they involved a girl that meant nothing to him, and that certainly wasn't the case with Rikki.

Danny looked at Flack, who had a knowing look on his face. The fact that he wasn't saying anything was only further proof that he knew what had happened, and that Danny didn't have to say anything. "Do you plan on sleepin' tonight?" He shook his head, knowing full well that sleep would evade him yet again if he even bothered to attempt it. "Let's go get a drink. You could use it," he said nonchalantly, his signature smile spreading across his lips.

"Alright." They both stood from their seats, and Danny grabbed his coat before they left his apartment. "You drive. I'd rather not end up in a body cast."

Laughing at the obvious joke, Flack stepped out of the apartment complex and into the cool night air as he followed Danny. "Yeah, same here."

As Danny climbed into the car, he heard the engine turn over, a sign that Flack had somehow beaten him into the car. As the car came to life, the radio did as well, in the middle of a song that he had yet to hear.

_S-s-sorry baby, there's something coming over me_

_It's like, it's like there's t-t-two sides of me_

_I've tried and tried to be good, but I don't wanna be_

_But you could, you could, you could be a friend to me_

A few moments later, as the song came to an end, Danny listened intently, trying to learn the name of the man he was about to hunt down and kill. Hearing a name he didn't recognize, he turned to Flack. "Who the hell is Blake Lewis?"

"Some guy from American Idol." Danny gave him a weird look, and he continued, "One of my exes loved that show. Made me watch it every time it was on. I got hooked."

Chuckling mirthlessly, he looked out the window and watched the identical buildings pass by as they drove. His ears honed in on the new song playing on the radio, and Danny was close to smashing his head through the glass when he heard the lyrics.

_Hold on to what you've been given lately_

_Hold on to what you know you've got_

_Hold on to what you've been given lately_

_Hold on, 'cause the world will turn if you're ready or not_

_Simplicity, a heart of gold, an old head on young shoulders_

_Quiet and lovely, becoming part of me_

_And now I see, from a handful of names and a thousand faces_

_One light burning fiercely_

_I was tired of January, tired of June_

_I felt a change a coming_

_I was tired of January, tired of June_

_I felt a change a-coming_

_I felt a change a-coming_

_I felt a change a-coming_

_I felt a change a-coming, soon_

Forcing the growl that was threatening to release from his throat back down, he leaned over and switched the radio station to something a little less - accusatory. What he got was something much worse - a reminder of what he now believed was a big mistake.

_And the longer we talked, the more we laughed_

_And wondered why we didn't last_

_It had been a long time, but late last night_

_Baby, we caught up real fast_

_And maybe it's a little too early_

_To know if this is gonna work_

_All I know is you're sure lookin'_

_Good in my shirt_

_You look good in my shirt_

Unable to prevent the growl this time, he saw Flack look at him from the corner of his eye. "What's with the sound effects?"

"Oh, nothing. Just seems like the radio is out to get me." He leaned his head back against the seat and sighed, his head suddenly pounding.

"I don't see how Keith Urban is threatening." After a moment's thought, he piped up again. "This have anything to do with Rikki?"

"Yeah." He realized he was being interrogated again, but at this point he could care less. "And Lindsay."

"I was wondering what was going on between the two of you."

"I didn't think it was anything serious, but now I'm not so sure." He turned his attention to his surroundings as the car stopped, and he realized that they had arrived at their usual hangout.

"No arguments, you're eating something if you're gonna drink," Flack said in an authoritative tone that Danny could only nod to. At this point, he was willing to agree to anything because he was so exhausted. He knew drinking couldn't be a good idea when he was this tired, but he didn't give a damn anymore. All it took were three songs to make him question every decision he had made over the past year. From sleeping with Lindsay to sleeping with Rikki, he doubted anything he had done was a wise choice.

They were seated at a window, where the view would be beautiful if not for the trash littering the streets and the buildings with boarded up windows and rusted gates protecting the entrances. Danny had come to learn that there needed to be a good three inches of snow on the ground to be able to truly appreciate the beauty of New York City.

He ordered a burger, complete with fries and a beer. Flack didn't say he had to eat first, drink later, so he wasn't going to bother waiting. He hadn't known that it would be the best choice he made that night.

* * *

Four beers later, Danny was feeling a comfortable buzz, though he was pretty sure he was drunk. His mind was jumbled, and he couldn't think straight. But after accidentally letting it slip that he'd slept with Rikki to Flack, he _knew_ he was drunk, and that it was probably time to stop. Opting that it was best that he went home, he clumsily took out his wallet and threw two twenties on the table and stood up as carefully as he could without falling back into the booth. _Damn, I'm not _that_ drunk, am I?_

He felt his head spin, and immediately lost his balance. _Shit. I _am _that drunk._ He tumbled backwards into the booth, exactly what he had been trying to avoid, and the laughter that emanated from his companion didn't go unnoticed. "Shut up, Flack. From what I remember, you didn't get the Irish drinking gene, either."

Clamming up, the man went to his friend's aide. Walking him out of the bar and to the car, he helped him into his seat. Danny heard the strained chuckle from Flack as he fumbled with his buckle, and immediately became irritated. "How about you help me out instead of laughing at me?"

"Okay," he said through a final strained laugh. He went around to his side of the car and buckled in before aiding his friend in his own seatbelt-themed endeavor. As they began to drive, Flack turned the radio back on, much to Danny's dismay. "Don't worry, I'm putting in a CD. You like Daughtry?"

Danny shrugged mindlessly. "They're okay. I've only heard the songs they have on the radio, though," he said, the 's' and 'th' sounds slurred painfully.

All Flack did was nod before he pressed play. He fumbled with the buttons, changing the song until it stopped on a loud rock song. "Guitar sounds familiar."

"Slash. He has a guitar cameo in this song."

Danny nodded and listened to the lyrics, grateful to hear something besides accusatory lyrics for once.

_It always seemed that I was sorry for the things that I did_

_But never did a thing about it 'til I let you in_

_It's kinda funny, 'bout the time that I was falling apart_

_You came and put me back together_

_'Cause what I want and what I need_

_Has now become the same thing_

_You've been offering_

_As days go by_

_I've finally become what you want me to be_

It was in the heavy rhythm of the song that had him making a revelation he hadn't seen coming. All his thoughts, mixed up and cloudy as they may be, were encircling one person: Rikki. As much as he cared for Lindsay, it seemed that the connection he had with Rikki ran much deeper. The memories of talking to her after Ruben died were sobering, and suddenly the alcohol induced buzz he had was gone. The only thing that he could focus on was telling her how he felt.

As if he had disappeared inside his own head, a different song was playing and they were parked in front of his apartment when he brought his attention back to the ride home. "I think I can make it up on my own."

"You sure?" Flack asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

"Yeah. I'll see you at shift tomorrow. Later."

He was rushing, and it didn't go unnoticed by his friend. Thankfully, he ignored it. "Later, Danny."

Hurrying out of the car and into his building, he practically ran to the elevator, still not fully able to trust himself on the stairs in his condition: just because he didn't feel drunk anymore didn't mean he wasn't.

As he stepped onto his floor, he moved to Rikki's door. He didn't expect her to be awake, but he was going to try anyway. He took a deep breath, attempting to retain the courage he knew he would lose if he didn't relax. He knocked quickly, and was surprised to hear shuffling behind the door almost immediately. He heard the chain lock slide and unlatch before the door opened quickly.

Rikki stood before him, her eyes once again puffy, giving Danny an uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu. This time, however, her cheeks were not wet. "Hey, Danny," she said, her voice hoarse.

"Hey. Can I come in?" She stepped aside, letting him cross the threshold into her apartment. Once inside, he was hit with an immense feeling of emptiness. He had been in this apartment before, when Ruben was alive. He would always come bounding in, excited to see Danny. It was stranger than fiction, coming in and not being tackled by the overzealous eight-year-old.

"What's up?" she asked, and he realized why her voice was hoarse when he looked at her again. The bags under her eyes told him she hadn't slept, and the dried tear tracks on her cheeks said that she had been crying most of the time she spent awake.

"I need to talk to you about something," he said, getting straight to the point. He wasn't going to bullshit her when she was grieving. He needed to be straightforward. She gestured to the living room, and he took a seat on the couch. As she sat next to him, he went to take the leap, "Rikki, I -" and landed face first on the diving board. Words were failing him, but he forced himself to continue. "I've been thinkin' about you, about what happened between us." He took a deep breath, urging himself to go on. "At the time, it had been a heat of the moment thing… but now I'm not too sure about that."

He looked over at her, and he saw her looking away, obviously not able to face him. Needing to see her face, he placed his hand gently on the side of her face and nudged her ever-so-slightly to turn her head. Now directly facing him, she diverted her eyes. Sighing, he decided to just keep talking. "What happened… it's become so much more than what I thought it was. I don't know what yet, but I know it's bigger than anything I've ever experienced before."

"What about Lindsay?" she interjected, the words a direct blow to his heart.

"I -" He was lost. He hadn't thought much about Lindsay when he had this epiphany. "She… I don't know, she did mean something to me at one point. But what I feel for her now is nothing like this, Rikki. There's something different going on between us. I feel more connected to you. It's been like this since before…" He choked on the rest of the sentence, and a lone tear ran down his cheek. He looked away when her gaze shot to his, and he realized he'd just made a huge mistake. "I'm sorry."

"No, Danny. Don't be sorry. I know how you felt about Ruben. He looked up to you." At the use of the past tense when she referred to her son, a few stray tears slid down to her chin, and Danny wiped them off as she went to speak. "You were his best friend, and you were all he talked about. Well, him and that bike. I'd be lying if I didn't enjoy talking about you with him. He formed a bond with you that gave me hope that he'd turn out alright. You were his father figure." At that, she was lost to the stream of tears escaping both her eyes, and he immediately wrapped her into a tight embrace.

She sobbed violently into his chest, and he didn't care that the tears soaked through his shirt. He only continued to hold her, not willing to let her go until he hugged all the pain away. He tried to console her, but when he went to speak, tears of his own began to fall, and soon he succumbed to the pain of losing Ruben. He cried silently, trying to hide it from the woman sobbing in his arms.

After minutes that felt like hours, her sobs began to die off, and he fought to bring himself under control. When she pulled away, he was still crying, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "You really loved him, didn't you?"

He gave her an incredulous look through the tears. "What wasn't there to love? He was so… so eager to live life. He was an amazing kid." He was speaking through a tear choked voice, but his composure was slowly coming back. "To be honest, he was like a son to me."

At those words, Rikki choked up again, and he rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. After attempting to regain her own composure, she let the tears slide from her eyes, but kept her voice even. "I can't believe he's gone. This is so surreal."

He pulled her into another hug, sure that another round of tears was bound to be on the horizon. "I know, Rikki. I hate that I let him go off on his own. I should've made him stay with me. At least then I'd have known he was safe." Unable to contain himself, he broke the embrace and shot up, beginning to pace impatiently as the anger at himself rose dangerously fast. "Damn it! Why did I make him go?"

"Danny," he heard her say, but he didn't respond. "_Danny!_" she said more urgently, and he turned to face her. "I don't blame you for this! I blame the son of a bitch who shot him!" She was practically screaming, and was suddenly standing toe to toe with him. Guilt and anger coursed through him, but he locked eye contact with her. "I could _never_ blame you! You've been here for me since this happened, and you have no idea how grateful I am for that!"

She stared at him, sincerity playing at every one of her facial features. Without thinking, he closed the small amount of distance between them and sealed their lips together in a fiery kiss. He couldn't help himself, and if she pushed him away, he'd blame it on the alcohol. But he knew that this was all him. To his surprise, she kissed back, holding him to her, not willing to break the kiss in the slightest.

When the need for air became both of their priorities, they pulled away, and he rested his forehead against hers. "I'm-"

"Don't you apologize, Danny." She looked at him seriously, and he kept his mouth shut. Nothing about this seemed wrong, but he still felt like he had screwed up somehow. Deciding to just ignore it, he felt the drooping of his eyelids, and noticed hers doing the same thing.

"You need to get to bed," he said softly. He led her slowly to the bedroom, and she held on to him with a death grip.

Once she lay in the bed, he turned to leave, but her hand tightened around his. "No, stay," she said forcefully, and he turned to look at her. Her eyes were pleading, and he decided to give in to her command. The last thing he wanted was another nightmare-filled night alone. Stripping to his wife-beater and boxers, he lay in the bed next to her, and she moved to wrap her arms around him. "Thank you, Danny," she whispered, and he watched as her eyelids dipped down to close.

"No problem. I'd do anything for you."

Before anything else could be said between the two of them, his eyelids became iron weights. They involuntarily closed, and within moments, Danny was sleeping for the first time in forty hours.


End file.
